


Choices, choices.

by momopichu



Series: One shot, One world [8]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Blood, Explicit Language, M/M, Mention of Character Death, cuz y not
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-11
Updated: 2016-11-11
Packaged: 2018-08-30 08:47:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,572
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8526616
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/momopichu/pseuds/momopichu
Summary: Would you save one instead of the many? Or would you save the many over the one? Ask Jack Morrison and he would've told you it didn't matter - not when someone else held your reins, not when someone threatened you with the death of the one so that you would save the many - even if it meant getting your hands dirty.





	

**Author's Note:**

> _Give me a Hero and I'll write you a tragedy._  
>  I wanted to write the idea that Jack didn't have control of what happened when he was Strike-Commander. That he didn't choose to abondon Ana or Gabriel because he was neglectful or because he didn't care but because there were other factors, someone controlling him, blackmailing him etc.  
> (Also, this is what happens when you watch Doctor Strange and then get in the mood to write angst.)

"I'm not leaving him."

"You don't have a choice, lives are at stake."

" _His_ life is at stake. I lost Ana, I can't lose him too."

"Save him and you would lose the other hundred thousand that rely on you - think about this Commander."

"The Defence Force can handle it. _I'm not leaving him_. End of discussion."

"Watch your tone Morrison, this discussion is hardly over."

"I just said it was, now move aside. I need to prepare a rescue."

A hand landed on his shoulder, even through the armour padding, he could feel the icy grip holding him in place. The agent turned black beaded eyes on him.

"How far do you think you will get Mr. Morrison? Maybe to the door? No matter, I doubt you will get off the landing pad."

He narrowed his blue eyes "What are you on about?"

The little holo device held in cool hands was not at all a comforting sight.

"We know Mr. Reyes' location, with a single flick of my finger I can order an airstrike on his position."

"...You _wouldn't_."

" _Oh I will_ , Mr. Morrison. Blackwatch-Commander Reyes will be dead before you've even left this room."

He ground his teeth, hands balled into white-knuckled fists at his side. "What the fuck do you want from me?"

"Get back to the mission - the _real_ mission - do your job as Strike Commander, save the lives of the people. That's an order."

The cold fingers tapped on his shoulder patiently, the black eyes watching him like a hungry hound circling its prey. Jack bit the inside of his cheek, tasting the acrid tang of blood that flooded his mouth. He had to save Gabriel, he had to. But he couldn’t…not if it meant Gabe would die in the process.

"...Fine."

"I'm sorry Mr. Morrison, I didn't catch that."

"Fine... _Sir_."

"Good boy."

\---------------------

< Present Day >

Soldier: 76 dodged the next blast, barely. Rolling into a crouch on the platform, he darted around the corner just as the next blast ripped up the space he had just been standing in. The Reaper was relentless, moving with silent grace after the soldier, a seething black fog that constantly pulsed on the edges of his vision.

The tactical visor pinged a warning: Talon operatives on the walkways above.

He was getting surrounded and the only escape was through the automatic door, which was quickly sliding shut. Like a jaw, the door’s upper panel closed in on the floor - it was now or never. 76 dove forward legs first, his momentum sending him skidding across the glossy metal floor - and right under the sliver of space left between the bulky door and the floor.

The thundering boom of the closed door behind him only paled in comparison to the Reaper’s frustrated roar he could hear reverberating through the facility. He shook off the chills that gathered about his shoulders and continued moving. The door had bought him a minutes’ head start at best, no more.

The abandoned Watchpoint stretched before him in all its lonely glory. Bleak halls, dusty rooms and relics left behind from a better - happier - time. Soldier: 76 ran past it all, his vision tinted a crimson red by his visor, words pinging across his sight as the device picked and discarded information as it scanned for what he wanted.

_Where was it, where was it...ah!_

He skidded to a stop before the broken wooden-and-steel-door, bent out of place on its hinges. 76 took a moment, prodding it with gloved fingertips before drawing back. His boot connected hard, knocking the door to the floor with a ear jarring bang. Soldier winced visibly at the sound, Reaper would most likely have heard that, but it was not like he had a choice.

He hadn’t had a choice in many things in life - now that he thought about it.

76 shrugged off the cobwebs of memories before stepping past the fallen door into the room. The archives of Watchpoint: Vienna, the architects really went to town designing this place, Soldier thought offhandedly. Even though the facility was supposed to be militaristic in nature, 76 could see the conscious effort of the designers to weave in the grandeur that permeated everything in the beautiful city. Shelves were framed by stone carvings of philosophers and historic scientists. Windows were high, curved, Soldier suspected the architects would’ve turned them into stained glass windows if the facility had granted them permission. The roof was tall, domed, hinting at a spire on top. Colorful, vibrant paintings were spread across the interior space.

But...tempting as it may be, he didn’t have time to marvel at the beauty of it.

Gingerly, he approached the wooden shelves, lined with boxes, and began scanning the name tags printed neatly on each. His breath rasped in the empty space, boots kicking up thick layers of dust as he threaded his way through the looming shelves. He kept twisting his head, listening for the sound of clinking metal, of rustling fabric, of a shifting fog. Precious seconds ticked past, Soldier suspected it had been minutes. When his finger finally drifted over the box he needed, he had to do a double take. Reading the tag twice more upon the box, he tapped it once with a gloved finger before pulling it from the shelf and spilling the contents on the floor.

The printed files, photos, newspaper articles and reports scattered the narrow space. The visor snapped into action once more, keywords were highlighted, faces in photos were enhanced, a particular symbol was brought up, overlapping the other feeds. Soldier extracted the piece, an eye lined in white printed on a blood red card.

He had what he needed. Time to bail.

 

\---------------------

 

“What do you mean you lost him!?” Reaper snarled

“ _I mean_ , he’s left the area!” Sombra snapped “You want to filter through all the frequencies and security feeds in this area - and there are _a lot_ \- be my guest! I hope it gives you a headache.”

Reaper growled under his breath. Sometimes he didn't know if he should just put a bullet into the infuriating hacker’s skull and call it a day or simply knock her out - either way Talon would not be happy. He ground his teeth together, stomping away from the Talon squad to scour the archives alone. He had been so darned _close_ to putting a bullet in the Soldier’s skull. If only he hadn't missed, if only that door hadn't shut in his face - he would have 76’s soul in his hands right now.

So caught up in his raging thoughts he barely noticed the scattered documents on the floor until his feet kicked the box - the cardboard shell bouncing across the floor. He cocked his head, curious. Kneeling, he picked up the box he had kicked, reading the neatly printed tag attached to its front.

"أمير"

Beneath his mask, Reaper raised an eyebrow. He knew a limited amount of arabic - courtesy of Ana back in the day - scraping a metal clawed finger across the tag, he dredged up the memories. _Emir_. That's what was written, an arabic word meaning Commander.

Curious.

For the sake of keeping a sense of union between Watchpoints (and for the sake of convenience), all archive documents were to be organised using English or Latin with some Watchpoints being exempted from the rule to use other languages. As far as Reaper was concerned, Watchpoint: Vienna was not of the latter and an archive box tagged in arabic was setting off warning signals within his head.

Carefully putting the box aside, he turned his attention to the scattered documents across the floor. A metal clawed hand carefully sifted through the jumbled collection of photos and reports, try as he might, he could not figure out why Soldier, or _Jack_ , had specifically taken this box. There were no links he could find, not to mention the most recent piece of report amongst the documents was dated back eight years. This stuff was ancient, not to mention useless.

“Hey a _nciano_ , what’cha got there?”

Sombra skipped over, black and lilac hair bouncing with the movement. She plopped down, arms folded and chin resting on top of Reaper’s hooded head, eyeing the documents over her little perch.

“I told you to stop calling me that,” Reaper growled “and get off - my head is not a porch.”

“Ok... _anciano_.”

Sombra made no move to get off, Reaper had a sneaking suspicion that her lilac purple eyes were twinkling. The hacker’s cocky, happy-go-lucky attitude always rubbed him the wrong way, she didn't fear him like the rest of Talon did and sometimes even had the habit of riling him up. But he supposed being a hacker with enough information to level a mountain the size of Everest, the fearless attitude was warranted. Mumbling incoherently under his breath, Reaper ignored the annoyance that was Sombra and resumed his examination of the documents.

_Just what are you thinking, Jack?_

“Hey, what's this?” Sombra exclaimed,

In a moment, she had moved from her perch on Reaper’s head, neon coloured fingers closing about the lid that acted as the archive box’s covering. She ran her nails along its insides, purple eyes narrowed as she scrutinized the grey-brown material.

Reaper slowly rose to his feet. Another thing he would never understand about Sombra was her uncanny habit of switching between the infuriating girl and the professional hacker at a moment’s notice. Not that he did not appreciate seeing the hacker face now, he always prefered it when she took things seriously. And whenever she was serious, Reaper didn't have to ask to know that Sombra had found something of interest.

His suspicions were confirmed when purple nails carefully extracted the tiny chip hidden away in the corner of the cardboard lid. Reaper cocked his head, the miniscule blood-red chip was no bigger than a bead, easily missed. Sombra handled it with a care she did not grant many things, turning it gently in her grip, turquoise and lilac cybernetics pulsed along her hands, honing in on the chip held in long delicate nails. With a wave of her other hand, a holo screen formed in the air before Sombra. Quietly, Reaper maneuvered himself behind the hacker so as to better see the screen. Sombra’s fingers danced in the air, numbers and letters shifting across the screen like scuttling ants. Tongue stuck out the corner of her mouth, the hacker broke the encryption with quick taps of her fingers, she had barely finished the sequence when a random file was selected and brought to their attention.

_< Emir: Video Log 213  >_

Two men flickered into being on the screen, Reaper instantly recognised the younger form of Jack Morrison, golden hair bright against the gloom of the dark room. The young Jack had his hands planted firmly on a table, blue eyes flashing at the unknown man he could not name.

_“I won't do it!” Jack was yelling “Slipstream is only a prototype, an experimental prototype - it's not cleared for human-pilot tests.”_

_“Pilots know the risks when they signed up with the air force,” the unknown man returned, unconcern laced in every fibre of his being_

_“That doesn't mean we can just throw them to the wolves!”_

_“Either by your hand will it be done...or by ours,” the man said “Which would you rather?”_

_“I rather it not be done at all,” Jack hissed “At least not until Slipstream is ready.”_

_The agent wore a look of genuine disappointment._

_“Very well then,” he said._

The video faded to black. Sombra’s brows were knit in a frown as she swiped her hand, bringing up the next video file. Reaper had his arms folded over his armoured chest, his mask hid any emotion he might have revealed, which was all the better - his mind was racing, thoughts flashing through his head like bullets as he considered what he had just seen. He had never seen the man in the videos before and Jack had never talked about this. Apparently there was more to the golden boy than he had thought. Perhaps he ought to question him before killing…?

“ _YOU ASSHOLES!_ ”

Reaper jumped. Video log 214 was loaded, young Jack was pacing the room, hands running furiously through his golden hair. The muscles bunched in his arms hinted at the blonde’s anger but the mysterious man remained unfazed, even a bit amused.

_“We warned you that we would take action, Mr. Morrison.”_

_“Slipstream was not ready! You didn’t have to...to…”_

_“To put a pilot in the cockpit?”_

_“That!” Jack slammed his hands on the table, inches from the uncaring man. “Is only one of the many things you didn’t have to do. You put Lena Oxton in that cockpit. Of all people, Lena - the youngest pilot the world has ever seen. What the fuck were you doing letting her pilot Slipstream? What the fuck were you even THINKING letting her anywhere near it!? And now she’s --”_

_“Gone?” The man tapped his fingers on the table, black eyes never leaving Jack. “Hardly, just stuck in the endless flow of the time stream. A pity though, to lose one so young and full of potential.”_

_“You…” Jack began, his face was twisted into a snarl, he looked ready to tear the man’s throat out._

_“We can bring her back.”_

_Jack took a stunned step back,caught off guard. Suddenly, he narrowed his eyes suspiciously._

_“You expect me to believe you can bring back someone stuck in a time stream”_

_“We can't, not alone anyhow.” The agent went on, cutting Jack off when the blonde tried to argue “But_ you _have someone who - with the right tech - can bring her back.”_

_Jack pursed his mouth in a thin line, anger still thundered in his blue eyes, but his poise was uncertain. His pale hands flexed at his sides, curling into tight-knuckled fists, before opening, hanging limp at his sides in defeat._

_“And what would I have to do for you to release this tech to me…?”_

_“This.”_

_A blood red folder was produced, slid across the table in a smooth motion. It sat, waiting for Jack to approach. There was an eye lined in white printed across its surface._

And as the video faded to black once more, Reaper could just make out a pale arm reaching for the folder. Sombra whistled - the sound of someone who had just uncovered a dirty secret. She snapped her fingers once, dismissing the holoscreen.

“We should get this back to base,” Sombra mused “I can run some - Hey!”

Before she had even finished, Reaper plucked the chip from her fingers. The little piece disappearing into one of the many pockets hidden in his black regalia, without another word he began heading back for the exit.

“ _Anciano_!” Sombra called after him, shoving past the confused Talon squad still milling about. “ _Más despacio_ , Reaper! What's gotten into you?”

Reaper ignored her, floating through the abandoned watchpoint like a ghost. Sombra ran after him, her feet, a light pitter patter against the cold floor. Only when Reaper had felt that he had put enough distance between himself and the Talon squad did he round on Sombra.

“I will make this very clear, Sombra,” he hissed lowly “I want everything on this chip, _everything_. And I want Talon to stay out of it.” He paused, letting the words sink in “I don't like it but I need your help. If you promise to keep this just between the two of us --” he produced the red chip, waving it tantalisingly before the hacker “-- I'll let you have full access to this... _thing_.”

Sombra’s purple eyes were transfixed by the waving chip, following it as Resper swayed it from side to side before her face. No sooner had he finished his speech did the hacker make a move to grab it - the temptation of classified information too much for her. Reaper jerked the chip away, instantly hiding it under the folds of his smoking black garb.

He tutted “Sombra…?”

“Talon won't hear a word from me... _Reyes_.”

The red chip reappeared, dwarfed in a metal clawed hand. Sombra carefully took it, one eye to Reaper as if she was afraid he might still try to take it back. When he made no move to stop her, she deposited the chip within the pockets of her own coat.

“I’ll have the files transferred to your… _private_ folder, once I have completed decrypting and extracting.” She grinned, revealing pearly white teeth.

“How soon?”

“By tonight.”

“Good,” He growled. Turning, he dissolved into a mass of black smog, ghosting out of the facility, leaving a coughing Sombra in his wake. If he hurried, he could make it to his safehouse on the edges of the city. He had a number of these safe houses but this one in particular was his own, Talon did not know of it - and he would like to keep it that way. Once there he could restock and rest before viewing the files Sombra was to send him.

Something told him he would have to go after the Soldier posthaste - once he had viewed the files.

  
\---------------------

  
Soldier twirled the blood red card in his gloved fingers.

It had been so long…

He wagered they thought he was dead, their golden boy, their little toy. They always knew how to control him, how to make him do their bidding. But no more, they were going to pay the price of using him - at long last.

He stopped twirling the card. The printed eye watched him, he traced its outline with a finger.

Reaper was probably going to be angry with him. Soldier didn’t blame him for trying to kill him, after all it was his own damn fault that Reaper ended up the way he was. It was time to reap the consequences of karma, even if it meant he would die doing so. The Crimson Eye - as he had come to call them - was not a group you wanted to mess with. Even if he had the advantage this time, Soldier wasn’t going to lie - he might not come out on top.

His only regret would be he didn’t die by his best friend’s hands.

Jack ‘Soldier: 76’ Morrison hefted the great pulse rifle in his hands, testing its weight and checking the ammo and safety. Briefly he tapped the biotic emitters strapped to his arms and waist, their weight a comforting feel on his body. With a final prayer to the cold blizzard winds, he turned, sliding the blood red card across the scanner.

The large double doors of the facility slid open with a hiss.

Gloved finger caressing the trigger on his rifle, he entered the darkness.

  
\---------------------

  
“Sombra, just hand the files over,” Reaper growled.

He was seated on the edge of his cot in his safehouse, a clawed finger held to his ear as he argued with the hacker who was for some reason, _extremely_ reluctant to hand the files over.

“Look, Gabriel,” Sombra was saying - which if her tone and choice of words was a sign, Reaper should be _very_ concerned. She rarely used his first name unless the situation was already too far gone. “Maybe you should find another way to go after the Soldier, I mean--”

“No. We agreed that you would give the files over once you finished decrypting.”

_“Por el amor de Dios!”_

“Don’t take that tone with me young lady, now give me the data or I’m adding you to my list.”

“Alright, alright,” Sombra sighed “Don’t say I didn’t warn you though.”

The files instantly appeared on the holo computer sat on his table. Rising from his cot, Reaper approached the computer and began sifting through the data.

  
...

  
_< Emir: Video Log 056  >_

_“Just smile and say ‘thank you’ Mr. Morrison, this has been a long time coming.”_

_“A long time - ? No. The title does not belong to me, it never did. Gabe should be Strike-Commander, not me._

_“Mr. Morrison, must we remind you that if you do not take the position, you and your current team will be disbanded?”_

_“You can’t just --”_

_“It is within our power. Think about this Mr. Morrison.”_

  
x

  
_< Emir: Video Log 348  >_

_“Quite the compassionate one, aren’t you Mr. Morrison?”_

_“...”_

_“Come now, that frown will become permanent if you keep at it. We only meant to offer our congratulations; granting refuge and medical treatment to the second son of the Shimada Clan was a smart move.”_

_“Genji Shimada is not a tool, the boy was nearly killed by his own brother.”_

_“All the more reason to hate his own flesh and blood - we can put his anger to good use.”_

_“You’ll destroy him.”_

_“His own brother sowed the seeds of war when he dealt the killing blow. We are just finishing his work.”_

  
x

  
_< Emir: Video Log 552  >_

_“Did you force Reinhardt to retire?”_

_“Now why would we do that, Mr. Morrison?”_

_“Oh I don’t know. Maybe because he was too loud? Maybe because he was critical of the way things were run? Maybe...Just maybe, he was onto something, something you didn’t want everyone else to know? MAYBE he was a threat to you so you had him forcibly retired?”_

_“Accusations made without evidence will be your downfall Mr. Morrison.”_

  
x

  
_< Emir: Video Log 598  >_

_“What do you want?”_

_“To check on you Mr. Morrison. You have been rather quiet lately.”_

_“I’m tired.”_

_“Your argument with Blackwatch-Commander Reyes the other day would suggest otherwise.”_

_“I had three shots of coffee in half an hour - honestly, what the fuck do you want?”_

_“Do you think distancing yourself from your friends will save them?”_

_“I don’t --”_

_“Listen carefully Mr. Morrison, barricading yourself from your friends will not save them from what is to come - not in any way, shape or form. So you might as well hold them close while you still have the chance. Now, forgive my...trespassing, but I must say: you did look cute together with Mr. Reyes.”_

  
x

  
_< Emir: Video Log 641  >_

_“I’m going back.”_

_“You are most certainly not Mr. Morrison.”_

_“Cut the crap, Ana could still be out there bleeding out. I. Need. To. Go. Back!”_

_“The scientists are secure, additionally we have new intel on Talon. Going back would jeopardize the situation.”_

_“I just lost my squad AND my second in command. The situation is already jeopardized.”_

_“And we can make it worse. Mr Morrison, report to the arranged conference immediately.”_

_“People are dying and you’re talking press conference!?”_

_“Yes. Now, do I have to repeat myself, or must I do something we will both regret?”_

_“Ana’s death is on your hands…”_

_“Noted. The conference, Mr. Morrison. Now.”_

  
x

  
Reaper sat back in the only chair in his one-bedroomed safehouse. A quick swipe and he had discarded his bone mask on the table and pulled his hood back so that he could rub at his tired eyes. When he told himself he wanted dirt on Jack so that he could kill the fucking blonde, he did not mean this. In fact, he would rather not have seen any of this.

The chip was a record of every conversation this organisation - a white eye printed on a red background - had ever had with Jack. Right from their introduction during the omnic war, up to and all the way through his life as Strike-Commander of Overwatch. This organisation had controlled Jack, manipulated him with threats against his friends - some carried out, others implied - to pull rank on the blonde and to prevent him from slipping through their grasp - and Gabriel had never realised this.

He had been so blinded by his own jealousy; losing the position of Strike-Commander to his best friend and then lover. He had let his feelings get in the way, going so far as to fight with the blonde. It had never occurred to him that Jack had done it on purpose to distance himself...to protect _him_.

Gabriel drew his hand down his face, feeling the claws scrape against his decaying skin. Stupid, stubborn Jack. Always creating problems for him. Gabriel dreaded going through any more of the files, but he knew he had to - he had already gone through so much, he had to finish this. He had to find out exactly what Jack had put himself in.

Leaning forward once more, Gabriel resumed his ordeal.

_  
< Emir: Video Log 757  >_

_“I'm not leaving him.”_

_“You don't have a choice, lives are at stake.”_

_“His life is at stake. I lost Ana, I can't lose him too.”_

_“Save him and you would lose the other hundred thousand that rely on you - think about this Commander.”  
_

_“The Defence Force can handle it. I'm not leaving him. End of discussion.”_

_“Watch your tone Morrison, this discussion is hardly over.”_

_“I just said it was, now move aside. I need to prepare a rescue.”_

_“How far do you think you will get Mr. Morrison? Maybe to the door? No matter, I doubt you will get off the landing pad.”_

_“What are you on about?”_

_“We know Mr. Reyes' location, with a single flick of my finger I can order an airstrike on his position.”_

_“...You wouldn't.”_

_“Oh I will, Mr. Morrison. Blackwatch-Commander Reyes will be dead before you've even left this room.”_

_“What the fuck do you want from me?”_

_“Get back to the mission - the real mission - do your job as Strike Commander, save the lives of the people. That's an order.”_

_“...Fine.”_

_“I'm sorry Mr. Morrison, I didn't catch that.”_

_“Fine...Sir.”_

_“Good boy.”_

  
The loud bang as he tossed the chair across the room barely fazed Gabriel. Black smog frothed and churned under his skin. His eyes were glowing a bright eerie red. Curse it... _Curse_ _it_ _all_! He had thought Jack left him to die at the hands of Talon, he had thought that the blonde didn’t care for him. And here was video evidence to suggest otherwise...

  
_< Emir: Video Log 760 [Final]  >  
< Switzerland, Overwatch Watchpoint: Zurich >_

_“Don’t you dare walk away from us Morrison!” the man snarled._

_“So you do cut with the formalities when things go to shit.” Jack was smiling, the first in a long time._

_The man held an expression of uncontained fury. “You should--”_

_“Watch what I say? I’m done watching what I have to say, around you, around everyone else.”_

_“Releasing those documents on Overwatch will bring down everything you have built.”_

_“Overwatch was built on lies, deceit, pain and the blood of those who didn’t have to die. So yes, it will bring Overwatch down - to its rightful place six feet under.”_

_They stood on opposite sides of the table, the conference room empty but for the two of them - facing off. The man did a slow half turn, facing the holo projection on the wall. Jack narrowed his blue eyes, his smile turning into a grim line. He knew something was wrong, the Crimson Eye would make him pay for this, he just hoped he had enough._

_“Mr. Morrison, if I were you, I’d consider my next move very carefully…” The man began_

_Jack was silent, one of his hands had come up to grip the back of the chair. It squeaked in protest as the blonde tightened his hold._

_“Because you might not like the consequences.”_

_The holo projection on the wall shifted. On it Jack could see the lobby of the Zurich headquarters, there was a man walking to the reception desk. Dark skinned and broadly muscled, wearing a hoodie under a tactical vest, a snug beanie covered his head. Jack’s eyes widened, he took one step back from the table, then two...and then he was running out of the room._

The video cut to black. Gabriel didn’t need it to remember what had happened in the Swiss headquarters that day. After all, it was marked in his mind as if someone had taken a knife and carved every gory detail right inside his skull.

That’s right, he could still remember Jack pelting across the lobby towards him, blue eyes wide with panic as he tried to persuade Gabriel to leave. And he had refused, hitting the blonde right in the middle of the lobby to the surprise of everyone present. Gabriel had yelled at the fallen man, pinning the blame and all his pain on him. The look of anguish that crossed the blue eyes went ignored. When the building suddenly came tumbling down in a shower of flame and stone, Jack had made a last ditch effort to save him - striking Gabriel across the jaw and kicking him under a nearby table in the hopes that the flimsy covering would act as some form of protection.

He had disappeared after that, presumed dead. It was hardly a surprise when he reappeared a few years later as the mysterious Soldier: 76 - not that Gabriel had cared. The Reaper had taken his place and upon hearing that the once golden boy was alive, he had vowed to end his life, no matter what. Now it seemed he needed to rethink just who needed to die.

Gabriel reached a hand for his comm, he had barely hung it to his ear when the feminine voice broke through the silence.

“I told you it was bad,” Sombra said.

Gabriel sighed. “I take it you’ve figured out where he went.”

“Some base just inside the Russian border. Bad place, bad weather.”

“I’ll get us a transport, meet me at the usual rendezvous point.”

“Oh-ho, going to hotwire us a ride _la parca_?”

“You’d be surprised at what I can do…”

  
\---------------------

  
“ _Tactical Visor: Activated_.”

The jolt from the visor seared down his nerves, burning a path under his skin. His body reacted to the commands the device gave, the pulse rifle in his hands firing round after round with surgical precision. The defense omnics dropped one after another, a single bullet in each of their steel skulls. He took each recoil of the rifle readily, his grip on the gun sure and steady. The remainder of the omnics were scattering, darting for cover as the hail of pulse bullets continued their onslaught.

Even though occupied by the fight before him, Jack was not deaf to what went on behind. He brought his rifle up to parry the sword just as the Phantom brought it down. With a well placed kick to the abdomen, the melee assassin was sent rolling backwards. Landing in a crouch, the Phantom’s black helmeted face watched him with a mesmerised focus that sent chills down Jack’s spine. Not one to hesitate, he brought his gun up once more, this time to dispatch the assassin.

The jolt from his visor warned him of the sniper before the bullet even left the barrel. But quick as he was, the sniper still grazed his arm, tearing a bloody gash and ripping his jacket. He cursed under his breath. The Phantom, seeing an opening darted in, silver sword glinting in the light. Jack narrowly dodged the blow, the blade coming inches to his face. Turning the rifle, he punched the butt of the rifle into the Phantom’s face, he was rewarded with a grunt of pain as the assassin reared back, a crack stretching across the black glass that protected the face.

Another click. Jack dropped and rolled, the sniper’s shot missing by a yard. The Phantom was pirouetting away, the black and white body suit the assassin wore was pulsing, a convulsion that began at the hands and feet before stretching for the body and head. True to their name, the Phantom was becoming invisible. Jack was unperturbed, he had dealt with all sorts of assassins before - you didn’t become a man of power without someone trying to put a knife between your ribs. He waited, safe for the moment against the sniper, he watched the air before him. Stealth suits were considered new and advanced tech, but just because something was new, didn’t make them good. The suits released a heat haze that had a bad habit of warping the air around the user, a failure of the cooling systems within the suit itself. The shift in the air warned Jack of the assassin’s approach, he pulled his head to the side, the blade slicing a deep cut across his cheek before piercing deeply into the metal crate he had taken shelter behind.

The Phantom struggled, it’s only weapon now buried hilt deep in the crate. Jack put a bullet into the black helmet before the assassin could recover. Before the body had even dropped to the floor, Jack was forced back into cover, the large metal slug from a sniper rifle punching a deep, black hole into the wall behind him. He cursed. His tactical visor had gone off half-way through the fight with the Phantom, he won’t be able to activate it again for the next few minutes as the device reset itself. Minutes that he didn’t have time to spare. Guess he was going to have to go commando.

He darted from cover, keeping low to the ground. No sooner had he parted from cover did he spot the red dot sight flaring into being on the catwalk above. Quickly changing his run, he skid himself leg first across the cold metal floor, the momentum sending him sliding feet first towards the next cover. The bullet grazed his shoulder as he moved, the pain forgotten in the rush of the moment. A quick twist and Jack’s back connected with the next covering, another set of large metal crates. The pain that jarred his shoulders momentarily rocked him, he huffed - he would be on his deathbed before admitting that age had finally caught up. He hefted the pulse rifle, fingers flicking across the underside of the great gun, he sidled to the edge of cover.

The red laser instantly locked onto his position. He jerked back quickly, avoiding a bullet to the head. In the silence that followed, he rolled from cover, pulse rifle up and raised towards the sniper on the catwalk. He could barely make out the sniper, but the movements were right, they were reloading - just as he had predicted.

The helix rockets erupted from the underside of his rifle, a swirling blue arc that spiralled across the distance. The Sniper snapped into action, rising to make a run for safety. They never made it, the rockets connected hard with the catwalk, rocking the perch and sending the sniper falling to their doom. Without cover from above and their assassin all but taken out of the picture, the remainder of the fight was but a walk in the park for Jack.

With no more bullets flying overhead, he left his cover with a grimace, scrutinising the damage done to his jacket and his bleeding wounds. The many cuts and scrapes he had earnt stung but once treated by the biotic emitter, did not hamper his ability to carry on - a small fortune. Loosening his shoulders and cracking his neck, he adjusted his grip on the pulse rifle and continued his lonely journey through the facility.

The base was all silver and steel, with decorations of green plants placed in strategic locations. Professional and sharp was the impression, but soon lost their edge with the bodies of broken defense systems littering the space. Resistance varied as Jack moved deeper into the facility, but nothing he and his visor and rifle could not readily handle.

Soon, he was clearing what he perceived to be the last wave, and as he entered the conference room with the man he used to meet regularly - all those many years ago - he slung his rifle across his shoulder in a one-armed motion, almost as if they were old friends greeting one another.

“Mr. Morrison,” The man said. Age had not affected his voice in anyway, still the same uncaring and business-like tone he had always known.

“How many more of you are there?” Jack asked.

“Straight to the point, aren’t you?” the man sighed, lounging in his seat at the front of the table. “And here I thought we could ‘catch up’ before you put a bullet in me.”

“ _Hmph_. As if you let all those innocent people play ‘catch up’ before you killed them.”

“Harsh. We stood by what was right back then, and we still do. It’s a shame you could not become part of that vision Mr. Morrison.”

“Quit stalling. Tell me what I need to know and I’ll make this painless for you.”

“Showing mercy? You were always a soft one Mr. Morrison.”

Jack unslung his rifle, his temper fraying. The man remained unfazed, instead gently twirling his chair from side to side as he watched the Soldier with black beaded eyes, his head resting on one arm.

“To be frank, Mr. Morrison.” The man stopped spinning his chair. Leaning forward, he placed both arms on the table, tapping the glossy surface with a cold hand. “I don’t know how many and where ‘the others’ are.”

“Bullshit.”

“Perhaps,” the man went on “You have always heard what we wanted you to hear, I suppose - in a way - we made you this way. But know this, _Jack_ , that I do not know where the other cells are - or how many there are. We run on a strict need-to-know basis and my own superiors have not graced me with the knowledge.”

“Cells?”

“Our organisation is large, far reaching. Cells enable us to compartmentalise and prioritize. Knowing this, the organisation most likely touches places I would not even have thought possible. Your past actions and those of today have marked you in their eyes - not a good thing.”

Jack snorted. He hefted his rifle in both hands as he slowly paced the room. He supposed he had expected this. The information he had found while tracking this base had hinted at a bigger picture, one that he was just beginning to see. He sighed - he _really_ had his work cut out for him.

A small light flickered into being on the table, white and flashing. Instantly, Jack snapped up his rifle, levelling the barrel at the man.

“What the hell is that?” Jack growled.

“It would seem my time is up.”

“What the HELL is that?”

The man leaned back on his chair, his fingers threaded together before him, resting on his abdomen as he fixed black beady eyes on Jack.

“It is a farewell, Mr. Morrison.” He said.

Jack darted forward, but as fast as he was, he could not stop the man crunching down on the pill already in his jaw. Foam bubbled from the man’s mouth, a distinct sweet smell of almond filling the air. Even though his face was covered by a mask, Jack still recoiled and covered his nose with a gloved hand - _cyanide_ , he thought. A finger to the pulse point confirmed his suspicions, the man was dead.

“Damn it!” He yelled, kicking the floor.

He had been so close, _so close_! And now he was back to square one. Jack whirled, about to make his exit when the flashing light upon the table opened up into a holo screen across the tabletop. It was a video footage, despite himself Jack approached the table once more, narrowing his eyes at the image before him. It took a moment but he soon recognised the double doors that led into the base of which he now stood. A camera feed, Jack’s eyes widened as he took in the sight of the two unsuspecting individuals setting feet within the facility. One, a dark skinned woman with glowing turquoise and lilac cybernetics and the other... _Reaper_.

The overwhelming sense of déjà vu knocked the breath from his lungs.

Jack bolted for the exit - right into the hands of the waiting mech.

  
\---------------------

  
“I’m surprised Talon let you borrow the Blackhawk,” Sombra commented

“They didn’t,” Reaper said - he _did_ feel kind of guilty.

“Then…”

“You don’t want to know.”

To his relief, Sombra dropped the subject - although Gabriel suspected the hacker had recorded the whole incident when he ‘ _persuaded_ ’ Talon to borrow the VTOL transport craft. Not that he was too bothered by it, it was the only way they could’ve made it here in time.

And to be honest, ‘in time’ was probably a relative term. Gabriel knelt to examine the body of the Phantom assassin lying still on the ground. With one clawed hand, he tilted the head to reveal a bullet hole. Charred around the edges, no metal fragments and still smoking - pulse weaponry. Jack had been here recently.

“Any luck?” He asked, rising to his feet and wiping his hands off.

“Not much,” Sombra grumbled “The facility’s mainframe is locked tight. Volskaya is nothing to this…” Her glowing neon fingers danced in the air before her, mini holo screens, hexagonal in shape and purple in colour, followed her darting movements. With a quick swipe, she dismissed them and brought up a bigger image. “I can’t access anything else other than the camera feeds, and even then - only some of them.”

Gabriel whistled. He rarely saw the hacker stumped when it came to tech, to put Sombra on the spot was an impressive feat - which made this place all the more dangerous. With a thought, he summoned Hellfire. The double shotguns materialized in a swirl of black smoke, a comforting weight in his hands as he brought them up, eyeing his surroundings with a trained eye.

“Can you at least find out where he went?”

The holo image before Sombra backtracked, with a tap of a finger, the video feed paused and played.

_Jack dispatched the sniper with a well aimed helix rocket to the catwalk, sending the gunman falling to his doom. With practised ease, the soldier pressed his advantage, gunning down the remainder of the omnics before moving through the western entrance._

The two Talon operatives shared a look. Leading the way with Hellfire, Gabriel followed the trail, Sombra hot on his heels.

Jack had not been discreet of his assault on the base. Gabriel eyed the bodies of omnics and other defensive personnel alike who were left scattered about. He sniffed - and he thought _he_ had anger management issues. But then again, if an organisation has been fucking with you and your friends for most of your life, blowing up their base seemed like the lowest form of courtesy a man could offer.

“Reaper, wait!”

Gabriel slowed to a stop, black mist swirling about his legs “What is it, Sombra?”

“It’s the feeds, something’s jamming the signals.”

He raised an eyebrow at that - even if Sombra could not see under his mask. “Anything else?” He asked.

“I don’t know. It’s like a blackout or something, we’ll be walking in blind--”

The pained cry followed by the thundering footsteps cut her off. Gabriel darted for the nearest cover - a pillar - Hellfire up and at the ready. Sombra had dropped in the opposite direction, tucked behind several metal containers, her small machine gun held in steady hands. They were hardly in a good position to fight, the room they had entered was large with few full cover opportunities - a sparse collection of metal crates and pillars and numerous plants set in low lying pots, offering half cover. From where he stood he could hear the hacker curse in their native language as she readied herself.

Gabriel’s eyes widened as the mech entered the room - twelve feet tall, white in colour and fully armoured, a blue sheen over its carapace hinted at shields, the machine was a marvel of state-of-the-art weaponry complete with a rocket launcher in one hand. In the other hand, the mech held a struggling Jack.

"Jack!!” Gabriel yelled. He brought his shotguns up, clamping down on the trigger without hesitation - a blow aimed at the mech’s armoured head. The metal slugs glanced off the shields in a flash of blue. He cursed under his breath.

The mech whirled, pinpointing Gabriel’s position. The groan of machinery was loud, echoing in the room.

“Gab--ah!” The soldier thrashed wildly in the mech’s crushing grip. “Get away! You’re no match for th--”

Gabriel had expected the machine to turn and fight, to forget the soldier in its grip. He wasn’t ready for what happened next.

The mech raised Jack high above its head, and slammed him down into the ground.

A moment stretched to eternity. The soldier’s blood splattering the cold tiled floor, the cry of pain that was silenced, the bone breaking crunch that seemed to thunder within the confines of his skull…

“S…” Gabriel raised his shotguns, levelled at the mech looming over the crushed man, “ _S O M B R A!”_

_“EMP Activated.”_

In a moment, the hacker had translocated behind the mech. A powerful purple pulse erupting from the cybernetics lining her slim form. The force threw the mech forward, forcing it to release the soldier, it's blue shields all but vaporised in the face of Sombra’s ultimate. Gabriel wasted no time, Hellfire coming into play, firing blast after blast into the mech’s carapace. The machine stumbled under the assault before righting itself. Groaning a challenge, it charged the Reaper.

  
\---------------------

  
Jack’s vision was blurred, hazy. Sounds came as if from far away - shifting, disorienting noises that seemed to swirl around him like water. There was the woman in purple, leaning over him, her mouth was moving - but he couldn’t make out a word she said. He was cold, the feeling of something seeping out from under him, taking the warmth with it. He blinked slowly, colours dancing before his eyes as he tried to focus. Smoke, he could see smoke behind the woman, curling in the air…

Gabriel…

His eyes rolled back in his head.

  
...

_  
There was fire crackling somewhere, sparks in the air from a broken machine._

_“We need to get him to a doctor.”_

_“There’s no doctor who can heal this kind of injury!”_

_“There’s...one.”_

_“You can’t be serious Gabriel! They’ll shoot on sight!”_

_“...Then make sure they don’t. Let’s move.”_

_Clawed hands lifted him up. He expected footsteps but felt himself floating instead._

  
x

  
_Noise, there was so much noise, they were yelling. He could hear the clink of guns._

_“It’s the Reaper! Someone stop him!”_

_“Aguarde! Wait! We need your help!”_

_“Is that…geh zur Seite.”_

_“Angela!”_

_“Have the ER room prepped. Now! Doctors Brant and Niccola, assist me.”_

_He was laid on something soft, carted away with hushed urgency._

  
x

  
_He could hear the snapping clacks of medical doors opening and shutting. Voices drifted back from the other side._

_“How bad…?”_

_“Extensive bone damage, punctured organs, severe blood loss...multiple skull fractures. Doctor Angela is still operating...”_

_“It’s already been eight hours.”_

_“I’m sorry Mr. Reyes…”_

  
x

  
_Beep._

_“Relieve the pressure --”_

_Beep._

_“He needs more oxygen --”_

_Beep._

_“We’re losing him -- !”_

_He couldn’t hear the beeping anymore, just a long droned out and monotonous sound that pierced through the void._

  
\---------------------

  
He must be dreaming. It was the only plausible explanation for the state of the room, for the scene stretching before him. Everything was at a standstill, tinted a comforting royal blue, a still-life painting that looked so real. Doctors hunched over a prone man lying on a medical bed, their sweat gleaming on their necks and foreheads, bodies hidden behind surgical green robes.

Upon closer inspection, Jack was surprised to find a familiar face amongst them. Young Angela Ziegler was probably not so young anymore, her blonde hair was tucked securely under a green cap, her blue eyes hidden under magnifying glasses as she devoted her attention to her patient. Even with the face mask covering half her face, he could see the distress that wrinkled the corners of her eyes, that strained the poise in which she was frozen in.

Jack turned, Angela had always been a great doctor - it felt strangely wrong to see her fail a patient. Approaching the door, he pressed a hand to the surface only to find himself phasing through. He blinked, well he _was_ dreaming - or so he thought. Shrugging, he passed through the closed doors.

Everything else was frozen. People were stopped mid conversation, others in the middle of a step as they walked, hair suspended in the air. Jack found others, he waved a hand in front of a nurse reading a holopad to no effect. He stopped behind a man crouched before a vending machine, retrieving a packet of salt and vinegar chips. Curious despite himself, he phased a hand through - and knocked another packet from within the machine.

“It’s on me,” he says to the frozen man, grinning.

He wandered aimlessly, drifting through the halls of what he supposed was a hospital. He tried to get the attention of a few of the frozen people but none reacted to his antics. Dismissing it as part of the dream, he phased through another set of doors into the cafeteria. Silently, he floated over to the kitchen.

An omnic chef was frozen like everything else, paused in the middle of flipping a portion of fried noodles. The food items hanging haphazardly in the air was a marvel, strings of noodle threaded with each other mixed with a variety of spices and greens he couldn’t be bothered to remember the names of. He considered trying to put a hand through the flying food items but thought better of it - he didn’t want to get in trouble, dream or no.

Turning, he was stunned by the scene that greeted him. The cafeteria had a balcony that opened up over a busy city and its coast. But it was not the city that caught his attention but the spectacle in the sky. Drifting over, he passed through the glass and onto the balcony, feeling the resistance as cobwebs upon his ghostly form. His hands came to rest on the silver railing, blue eyes transfixed by the sight.

Lightning. He had always found them fleeting, momentary and loud - a spark that disappeared with the blinking of an eye. But now...Jack watched as the element painted jagged tendrils of white hot light across the cloudy evening sky. The dream was strange, everything else was still, but not the sky. His blue eyes traced the lines as the lightning curved through the air before vanishing, each stroke formed and grown like the branches of a tree before vanishing.

Again and again, the lightning danced for him across the sky, beckoning with silver pronged fingers. Unconsciously, he raised a hand upwards - to the heavens.

“Jack.”

He whirled and blinked.

“ _Gabe_?” he asked, disbelief entering his voice. He looked the dark skinned man over, Gabriel’s appearance was strange. His face was as Jack remembered from back during their Overwatch days, with short close cropped curls and beautifully smooth mocha coloured skin. But he was wearing his Reaper garb, the kevlar armour sitting snugly against his broad chest, the long sweeping black coat that swayed despite the absence of wind. “Um...what--”

“Jack,” Gabriel said once more “You need to go back.”

He raised an eyebrow, folding his arms before his chest as he leaned back against the silver railing - his blue eyes noting the way in which Gabriel outright flinched as he did so.

“Go back to...where, exactly?” He asked.

“Stop messing around _cariño_ , this is serious.” Gabriel took a tentative step out onto the balcony, one sun-kissed hand stretched out to Jack as if he were...afraid.

Jack whistled. “Been a long time since you called me that,” he chuckled “I thought you hated me.”

Gabriel dropped his hand with an exasperated sigh. “I don’t _hate_ you.”

“Then…?”

“You know, sometimes you’re just so _infuriatingly_ …”

“Stubborn?” Jack supplied

“I was thinking more of pig-headed, but - same thing I suppose.” Gabriel huffed, coming to lounge against the railing beside Jack.

Grinning to himself, Jack turned. Companionable silence filled the air as the two of them watched the lightning continue its journey across the cloud-filled sky.

“I saw the videos by the way,” Gabriel said suddenly, voice hushed. “I know what you did.”

“You’re going to have to be more specific Gabe,” Jack returned. “I did a lot of stupid shit - and what videos are you talking about?”

Gabriel paused, turning to look at him with round hazel eyes - Jack was surprised to note. They weren’t the usual red that Gabriel had when he was the Reaper, they were the kind gentle orbs he knew before their world had blown apart. Gabriel sighed.

“You still think this is a dream _cariño_?” He asked.

“Let’s see,” Jack started “everything and everyone is frozen, the sky's moving a thousand times slower than what it should be, I can phase through…” He stopped short, blue eyes suddenly narrowing.

The hospital room, Angela working over a failing patient, the frozen scene...Gabe.

A dark skinned hand covered his own pale ones where they had begun twisting themselves on the railing.

“Jack, calm down.”

"I’m dying,  _aren’t_ _I_?” He asked, voice hushed. He should be a lot more panicked by the fact, the realisation. But he wasn’t, he just felt...empty. He looked over to Gabriel and was surprised by the depth of sadness he found within.

“Yeah. Yeah, you are.” Gabriel said, he tightened his grip on Jack, his warmth mingling with his icy hands - Jack hadn’t realised how cold he had been.

“ _Shit_.”

Gabriel blinked. “You know, knowing you - I expected a bigger reaction.”

“What did you expect, screaming and shouting?” Jack asked, twisting out of Gabriel’s grip and running his fingers furiously through his snow white hair. “God dammit Gabe, you said it yourself - you know what I did. I deserve this, all of this.

“You deserve a punch in the face for all the shit you pulled. Not quietly dying under some fucking lightning storm,” Gabriel snapped, brows knit together in a frown.

“I knew I could count on you to be my voice of rationality,” Jack grumbled.

“Thanks, I guess.” Gabriel returned, leaning sideways on the railing so that he could watch Jack.

Soldier, Experiment, Strike-commander - or rather _poster_ - _boy_ \- and now back to Soldier. Jack’s life had been one shit storm after another. He dropped his pale arms back onto the railing, burying his face in them. _Gods_ , he was tired.

“Jack,” Gabriel’s voice broke through his thoughts, a soft whisper that drew his blue eyes from his arms. “Come back with me.”

“So I can fuck shit up again?” Jack chuckled

“If that’s what you want - yeah.”

“Gabe --”

“You didn’t fuck shit up - not really anyway,” Gabriel went on, effectively cutting Jack off. “They never gave you a choice, it was always do this or someone dies. It’s not like that anymore, you can choose now. _Hell_ , you could go back to that farm of yours in Indiana and I would go with you.”

Jack laughed despite himself. “You. Gabriel Reyes, on a farm in the middle of nowhere?”

“Just an example _cariño_ ,” Gabriel chuckled. “But I mean it, come back, make the choices you never had. You said it back in SEP, you joined because you chose to, because you felt it was _right_ \- you could do that again, make the right - the _good_ \- choices.”

Jack shook his head in disbelief, burying his face in his hands. “I can’t believe you remembered that. God it felt so cheesy.”

“Yeah, it was,” Gabriel agreed, punching Jack’s shoulder lightheartedly. “So...what will it be?”

Jack examined his pale, gun-calloused hands, the results of years of hard labour - some good, some bad. A small smile grew on his scarred lips.

“Alright, I’ll come back with you…” Jack began.

“Great--”

“Under one condition.”

Gabriel groaned loudly. “I suppose I should’ve expected this.”

“You quit working for Talon,” Jack said, arms folded across his chest.

It took but a second to make his decision. “Done,” Gabriel said.

“And you have to stay by my side,” Jack finished.

“That’s two conditions.”

“Is it?”

“Fine, whatever - at least it’ll keep you out of trouble,” Gabriel growled. Roughly, he pulled Jack into his chest, wrapping his arms around the soldier in a light embrace. “Are you ready to go now?”

“Yeah.” He rested his snow white head upon the kevlar armor, arms wrapped loosely around Gabriel’s waist. The beating of the other man’s heart thrummed through the layers he wore, a strong and steady beat that thundered against Jack’s ear until it was all that he could hear, all that he could feel.

  
…

  
_“Heartbeat stabilising.”_

_“Keep at it. I need the stylus. Now.”_

_“Understood.”_

  
\---------------------

  
Outside the ward, Gabriel opened his eyes to find Sombra looking down at him.

“What?” He growled, rubbing his face. His bone mask was hooked to his belt, revealing ashen, decaying skin that frothed with black smoke.

“Had a good nap _anciano_?” She asked cheekily.

Gabriel probably didn’t want to ask how she knew, instead he mumbled an affirmation, leaning his head back against the wall of the waiting room. Remembering his deal with Jack, he blinked open blood-red eyes. “Sombra…”

“Yeah, yeah. I can guess,” The hacker said, waving a hand dismissively in the air. “We’ll keep in touch?”

Gabriel nodded. Now that he thought about it, he was going to miss her.

Sombra grinned, a delicate gloved finger coming up to poke his nose.

“ _Boop_!”

And then she was gone.

**Author's Note:**

> [Will update with translation notes and etc. later]


End file.
